


Harry "Hotspur" Percy: Paramount to Plotting

by skysonfire



Series: Joe Armstrong [16]
Category: The Hollow Crown (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Henry IV Part I, I'm sorry Shakespeare, Joe Armstrong - Freeform, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Shakespeare, Smut with a Story, Young Billie Joe Armstrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysonfire/pseuds/skysonfire
Relationships: Harry "Hotspur" Percy/Original Female Character
Series: Joe Armstrong [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/159608





	Harry "Hotspur" Percy: Paramount to Plotting

“My throat is raw from song.” She said merrily when she assumed her place as a guest at the dais next to Harry.

His enduring father was ruminating about the importance of plotting in preparation for war, and as though in a trance, she faded away into fantasy when she felt a pressure on her thigh under the table. Her body startled and she glanced at Harry, who smiled at her teasingly before reengaging in conversation.

Instead of removing his hand, he worked his fingers over the supple velvet of her dress, running it up her right leg. When his hand reached the soft warmth of her flesh, he squeezed her firmly and slid his hand between her thighs. She was paralyzed by his actions, and she took a long draught from her cup, trying to calm the incessant hammering of her heart.

Resigning herself, she spread her knees apart slightly to allow him the exposure he needed to work his fingers into her, which he did thoughtfully at first — barely touching her wet torridness. It was enough to make her throb with longing, and she shifted in her seat, swiveling her hips discreetly in his direction. He took from her silent cues, and danced his index finger over her in an unhurried circular motion. She could feel heat flushing her face and the air that escaped her nose was short and distracted.

“Paramount to plotting,” he addressed the table suddenly, “is silence — stony and absolute.”

Harry darted at her with his eyes and she interpreted his suggestion. His voice, so low and gritty, spurred her to spread her legs further, and he quickened his fingers, touching and petting in the ways he knew would stir her most intently. She was so slick that she could barely feel the friction of his fingers, and she used her right hand to guide him into her more deeply, pushing and pulling at his wrist to entice him to work her in earnest.

He continued to draw against her in a methodical and maddening way, and just before she reached her height, he released her and withdrew his hand. His fingers, slippery with her passion, he brought to his mouth, tonguing them off boldly. He turned toward her and whispered spicily, as the conversation at the table moved in direction.

“Before the night is done, my lady’s throat will not be raw from singing, but from screaming.”


End file.
